


Reminiscing Kites

by Heiots



Series: Intricacies of Joan Watson [2]
Category: Elementary (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3382682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heiots/pseuds/Heiots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are the intangible elements that unravel memories buried deep beneath the everyday thoughts of life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reminiscing Kites

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to amindamazed for being my beta reader!

**Reminiscing Kites**

_"They are the intangible elements that unravel memories_  
 _buried deep beneath the everyday thoughts of life."_ **  
**

Scattered leaves scrape against the ground before being swept up by the wind, spiralling in the evening's diminishing light. The scent of forgotten memories lingers in the autumn air, what's left of the day's warmth quickly fading. A tan squirrel scurries up the thick trunk of a red maple tree, bushy tail twitching in rapid motions before disappearing into the leafy canopy overhead.

The unspoken is expelled in a sigh that escapes the world's notice. She shifts on the park bench, causing the papery contents in the bag to rustle beneath her hands. An elderly couple strolling down the pavement gaze at her in curiosity, and they exchange the kind of smiles that strangers passing each other by in life do.

Five minutes. She'll give it another five minutes.

A little child's laughter rides on the wind. On the patch of green littered with fallen leaves, a girl clutches a spool of string, as a man, presumably her father, backs away with a kite of bright, brilliant colours. The child bounces in excitement, but he does not hurry with his task. She laughs in anticipation, and he grins, both oblivious to prying eyes.

He waits for the perfect moment, and when it arrives, he lets go.

The kite soars.

* * *

_Peals of giggles break loose. The nylon string is taut against her finger, the kite tugging, fighting to break free to wander its own way. She is not foreign to kite-flying. There is one at home that her brother lets her use on occasion if she promises to do his chores for him, but this, this one is different. This one is hers to keep. It is not the prettiest, not like the ones her classmates have. It is nothing more than a plastic bag, sticks stuck together with tape, and a paper tail at the end, but it is beautiful because he made it._

_For her._

_She twists around to look at him, to thank him, and the words dissipate in her mouth._

_Something feels wrong. Though why exactly, she can't pinpoint._

" _Do you have to go?"_

_He crouches down beside her. There is dirt smudged on his face. "I've got to work, remember?" His lips curve, but his voice sounds all funny. He stands, his hand resting heavy on her head for a second._

_Eyes follow his figure. He stops by the bench her mother occupies, and they talk for a long time. There is a lot of gesturing. Shaking of head. Slumped shoulders. She watches them, a knot in her chest, too far away to hear the words spoken. When they both turn to look in her direction, she tilts her head up to the darkening sky, only to realize that the kite is nowhere to be found. The string lies slack in her hands._

_A quick search reveals the kite lying abandoned on the ground, its journey ended before it had even barely begun._

" _Joan!"_

_She grabs the kite and races back. He is already gone. She wants to ask where he went and when he will visit again, but the sight of her mother's reddened eyes stop the questions from spilling forth. The ride home is quiet. In her room, she hunts for a suitable hiding place where Oren wouldn't be able to get to and finally stashes the kite inside her closet, behind piles of clothes, where it waits for the next opportunity to be out again in the open._

* * *

"Watson!" He calls as the door slams shut behind her. 

She halts, laden with the weariness of one who has been lugging around boulders instead of a childhood toy constructed of mere plastic and sticks.

He takes a quick moment to survey her. "You've been to the park, I see. And you were?"

She meets his eyes, and after a second, gives him the faintest of smiles. "Waiting."


End file.
